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Adoptees Like Me ‘Flip the Script’ on the Pro-Adoption Narrative

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Adoptees Like Me ‘Flip the Script’ on the Pro-Adoption Narrative

By Laura Barcella November 13, 2014 2:19 pmNovember 13, 2014 2:19 pm

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Credit Vivienne Flesher

I can’t remember not knowing I was adopted. My parents told me early, believing, as most of us do, that honesty always reigns. My biological mother, then a 20-year-old student, relinquished her rights to me when I was born in 1977.

As an adoptee (rhymes with “refugee” and “amputee”), being forsaken by my biological mom has burdened me, for as long as I can remember, with a sense of inborn exile — a gaping hole where my identity should be. Even notes from the foster home where I lived for four months as an infant before being adopted by my parents betrayed whispers of my growing discontent: “Cries constantly.” “Frowns at herself in the mirror.”

I started therapy at 15 and medication at 17 in a struggle to fight the depression that had consumed me since childhood with its soul-scraping negativity, barbs of self-loathing and perpetual hypervigilance against even the pettiest wrinkle of rejection. I also maintained magical thinking about my birth mom. She would be gregarious but earthy, a Stevie Nicks replica who smelled of violet and incense. Meeting her would tie up the frayed ends within me, help me finally feel at home in my skin. (It didn’t. And she’s the opposite of Stevie Nicks.)

Here’s the thing: Many adoptees don’t feel at home — ever, anywhere.

These difficult feelings are worth discussing now, because it’s National Adoption Month, a yearly celebration of all things adoption related. The campaign drives home the ubiquitous social message that adopting a child is an invariably pure act of selflessness. But for years on end, our culture has whitewashed adoption (both domestic and international), only telling the story from the rapturous perspective of adoptive parents while ignoring the darker realities adopted children can face. Depression, anxiety and addiction are at higher rates among adoptees, and we are four times more likely to attempt suicide than nonadopted peers.

“Flip the Script,” a new YouTube video by an adoptee writing collective, The Lost Daughters, attempts to combat the damaging cultural narrative that centers exclusively on shiny, happy adoption experiences. “National Adoption Month is a very loud single story told by certain people and not by adoptees. … There’s a narrative being pieced together and it’s literally time to rewrite that,” a young woman declares in the clip.

In the same vein, the anti-adoption movement — yes, that exists — has been gaining ground in recent years, with both adoptees and biological moms among its ranks. Why would anyone second-guess a tradition that gives needy children the chance for a “normal” life in the homes of loving, parents hungry for a happy ending?

For one, there’s the arguable corruption of the multi-billion dollar adoption industry — a trade that lines its roomy pockets with money sometimes derived from coercion, racism and wannabe-do-gooders’ salvation complexes. Then there’s the evangelical adoption boom, in which Bible-adhering Christians essentially collect children, often from disaster-stricken poor countries. “It’s hard not to notice that this movement … is [comprised of] a lot of white, often Southern evangelical Christians adopting many children from countries in Africa,” author Kathryn Joyce said when I interviewed her about the trend. Not all of the children put up for adoption — especially internationally — need “rescuing.” Some are ripped from families who have been defrauded or coerced into giving up their children.

The sanitized spin on adoption is starting to shift, though, thanks to more adoptees — like Flip the Script — opening up about their histories. Countless adoptee blogs capture the ambivalence and rage we can feel when confronted by the powerlessness of being given up by our first families. And make no mistake: Being sacrificed by one’s mother, even for a seemingly altruistic purpose, is a form of trauma that can take a lifetime to heal.

I’ve never felt comfortable “reclaiming my adoptee narrative.” Growing up, I was taunted for it; humiliated by it. Some of my closest friends still don’t know I’m adopted because I have never figured out how to comfortably divulge it. The scar of my adoption lingers daily.

Is the practice inherently destructive? Do we need a new system, and if so, what? I believe, at least, that all adoptions should be “open,” with the child’s biological and adoptive parents given access to identifying details, records and contact information for one another. Another option is for a relative or friend of the child’s biological mother to obtain legal guardianship, which could potentially help children feel more connected to their first families.

As a single woman at almost 38, though I think I want children, I know my time to have a biological child is limited. I’ve considered adoption as a future possibility. But when I imagine the troubles that could haunt my potential kid, I begin doubting my ability to watch her go through it. Then again, maybe my adoptee status makes me a perfect contender, with a higher sensitivity to the potential roadblocks.

I don’t know the answers. But I’m relieved that more adoptees are finding a way to talk about all of our adoption experiences, emphasizing the reality that not all adoptions end in rainbows and bubbly baby smiles. It’s a start.

About

We're all living the family dynamic, as parents, as children, as siblings, uncles and aunts. At Motherlode, lead writer and editor KJ Dell’Antonia invites contributors and commenters to explore how our families affect our lives, and how the news affects our families—and all families. Join us to talk about education, child care, mealtime, sports, technology, the work-family balance and much more